


Farmer's Market Hot

by G_the_G



Series: Avengers University [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beardy Profess Steve Rogers, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Grad Student Darcy, The Plot Bunnies Ran Wild, academic au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_the_G/pseuds/G_the_G
Summary: Darcy comes to a realization. Her crush on her Art History professor isn't going anywhere. And she is very much in trouble.





	

“Okay, doc,” Darcy called as she dropped a stack of papers onto the already crowded desk, “Here’s your Tuesday night classes’ quizzes. Don’t lose them. They’re neatly organized and pristine, so no spilling coffee on them either.”

Silence answered her, so she headed from Dr. Foster’s personal work space to the shared lab area. Sure enough, the woman was halfway inside one of her machines that was still functioning on half duct tape and half hope, despite the grant the fair doctor had just landed.

“Yoohoo! Janey!”

There was a thud and muttered curse, but soon the astrophysicist made an appearance.

“Oh, hey Darce. Didn’t hear you.”

“I noticed. I was just dropping off your papers for the Intro class. They’re all graded and uploaded in the system.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favoritest former student I ever had?”

“Yes, last week when I prepped the test on chapter three.”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever,” Darcy laughed, rolling her eyes as she set down her bag. “You need to get a new grad student and stop paying me out of pocket.”

Jane shrugged, setting down her pliers. “Eh, that’s what grant money is for.”

“True, but you still need a real TA. One not in Political Science. I may have been a hard science major for a hot two semesters in undergrad, but I only TAed for you because I needed money for that study abroad. Now I do it because I’m poor and you’re pathetic.”

“Oh the sweet things you always say to me,” Jane teased while grabbing a roll of duct tape and firmly yanking off a new strip.

“Seriously. You still need to prepare for the big symposium that the Norwegian bigwig is coming for and I need to survive Dr. Coulson’s Current Event course while somehow convincing him to be my thesis supervisor next year.”

“Details,” was the muffled response from inside the machine.

“Very important details.” She emphasized, voice raised. With a glance at the clock, she gathered things. “And now I gotta go or else I’m gonna be late to the one highlight of my week.”

Jane quickly pulled herself back out of her machine, salacious grin in place.

“Are you actually referring to academic pursuits? Or the bearded art history professor whose lumberjack shirts you want to wear after removing them from his body with your own hands?”

“Ugh,” Darcy groaned. “I never should have told you about that run-in with him at the grocery store.”

“Probably not. But it was kind of moot since you’d already told me about the _dream_.”

“I told you! We’re not talking about that!” She pointed menacingly, but the evil grin she hoped to quell only grew.

“You know, the one where he’s got the glasses on and is reading to you in bed with-”

“No!” She covered her ears, shaking her head as she backed her way to the door. “Bye, Jane!” Darcy yelled. As she hurried from the office, she added “You better have a TA by the time I see you Monday!”

When she made it across campus to the Kirby building, she hoped she’d lost at least half of the blush her terrible, terrible friend had brought up. Or at least that someone would think it was from her rushing over. Or the slightly chilly weather outside. Anything but her ridiculous crush on the Art History professor. The one she shared it at least half the student population. With a couple steadying breaths, she walked through the front doors and hurried down the hallway, dodging dance and theater majors as she went.

No staring, no daydreaming, no doodling, she reminded herself. The last time she’d let those happened, she’d wound up with a sketch of him down the margin of her notebook. With a last stern mental warning, she straightened her jacket and reached for the door. She was a mostly functioning adult. She wasn’t some twitterpated undergrad. 

She could do this.

But before she could grab the handle, the door opened, and her Dr. Rogers in all his farmer’s market hot, “Call me Steve” glory stepped out.

“Oh, hi Darcy,” he grinned, eyes crinkling up. “I was worried you weren’t going to join us.”

Shit.

She could not do this.


End file.
